Notice Me, Daichi
by Yuilhan
Summary: Kōshi Sugawara was in love with his best friend. A fact that he himself had only just noticed twenty minutes ago. A fact that Daichi Sawamura wasn't going to notice himself for a very, very long time, should Kōshi play his cards right. Or ever really. Daichi never finding out would be preferable, yeah. (Sequel to 'Heartbreaker? Pfffsh...)
1. Notice Me, Daichi

**A/N [12/08/2018] :** Welcome to the first chapter of **Notice Me, Daichi** _,_ the parallel-sequel series to **Heartbreaker? _Pfffsh..._**! If you're a new reader, I'd strongly suggest you read the latter first, because things should make more sense here if you've read **H?P...** Anyway, new readers or old, I really hope you enjoy this short series. As always, drop me a comment, a PM, or come an natter with me on my Tumblr. I'm yuilhan-writes-things, and while I don't always check it frequently, I'll certainly try and respond as soon as possible!

There isn't a set update schedule for this story, unlike **H?P...** which I wrote and updated for daily. I'll try and aim for that again for these five chapters, but it could be every other day I'm updating **NM,D.**

* * *

 **Notice Me, Daichi**

* * *

 _Notice Me, Daichi_

* * *

Kōshi Sugawara was wondering once more how exactly he'd fallen into this situation.

Sat inside Kiyoko Shimizu's bedroom – a place he'd never though he'd see before in his life, and a sanctum that Nishinoya and Tanaka would kill for just to set foot in momentarily – chewing on snacks and drinking chilled grape juice from glasses that had an entirely different function… It was mind-boggling.

Somewhere around the time of Daichi waxing on about the potential horrors Yachi could have been facing when alone with Kiyoko (which, considering the magic teenage girls worked on themselves every day said horrors were probably akin to voodoo and could have been assured by blood sacrifices) and Shimizu approaching him after practice to assist her in teaching Yachi something 'important', Kōshi had fallen down a rabbit hole. A very, very, Kiyoko-orientated rabbit hole. He was sure of it.

Since when did Kiyoko 'Angelic Ice Queen' Shimizu keep cuddly toys by her bed?

Distinctly feminine touches in the room did not a torture chamber make; the floral bedspread didn't scream 'There's a bed of nails hidden under the duvet', and though Kōshi could confirm to Daichi that if Kiyoko owned any chains and whips they were well-hidden, he kept eyeing what he thought was a pair of eyelash curlers speculatively.

Daichi would be disappointed, he supposed. The Captain had been banking on Kōshi using this meeting to gather intel on Kiyoko's (as she'd stressed to both himself and Hitoka to call her by her first name) nefarious plans.

In truth, it was nothing as sinister as Daichi had been imagining – which Kōshi had been certain of before he'd been pulled inside a teenage girl's room. Though Kiyoko's plans were still rather outlandish.

Seduction of all things? And Shimizu had willingly put herself through those lessons too?

The Karasuno team were no strangers to tradition. They'd kept the banner hung at big games to rally support – while it had seen better days (most likely needing repairs seeing as Karasuno hadn't exactly dominated the high school volleyball scene in an age) – and made it a thing to recreate the Nativity each year while they had Asahi with them.

Perhaps, that tradition should carry over into college, though Kōshi wasn't sure how the logistics would work if they all scattered to different universities and if Asahi would be charged for public indecency, strung up to a lamppost or something rather than a volleyball net.

That their managers-in-training – regardless of gender – had to undergo the same rite of passage… it was… Kōshi couldn't find the words, truthfully. The one year where the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club had a male manager must have been interesting. It's possibly the reason why future managers for boys and girls' clubs were encouraged to be of the opposite sex, but Kōshi was sure that the same traditions Kiyoko had undergone were not encouraged for the girl's teams. Only the innate lesson to protect yourselves from pervs who just want to see girls getting sweaty playing sports.

Weirdos the lot of them, though Kōshi could acknowledge it worked both ways.

While the meaner part of him (the perks of being a Gemini) thought realistically that this tradition was incredibly versatile and handy for an array of situations outside of volleyball (Kami knew Hitoka could use a few confidence boosters, and there was nothing bolder than flirtation when you were fifteen) the emotional part of Kōshi's temperament that dealt with icky feelings and hormones stressed to him that Kiyoko's lessons weren't _right._

Hitoka Yachi, underneath all of the trembling and leftover baby fat, had a spine deep down inside. It was amazing to see it – and her – bare metaphorical teeth and step up to the plate, but at the same time Kōshi wanted to just, _not._

He could see where Daichi was coming from now; Hitoka being pushed into the roll of 'Kiyoko' was a mental image Kōshi would rather not have in his head. He just couldn't picture it – didn't want to.

So, when Kiyoko assured a quivering Hitoka that she would have to find her own method of charming these so-called 'targets', Kōshi was almost relieved.

Almost.

Then he'd seen the three polaroid pictures Kiyoko had laid out, and instantly paled. Much like Hitoka had.

Daichi had been right. Kiyoko Shimizu was insane, and Kōshi was going to do his best to keep Hitoka out of trouble without compromising Kiyoko's stupid traditions if it killed him.

* * *

"You really had to do all of that?" Kōshi asks Kiyoko. They both took the Modern Literature elective this year, and somehow, their desks are beside one another. It makes it easier for them to talk about the club in between lesson change overs and breaks, seeing as this elective is presented as a double session on their timetables.

Kiyoko dips her head, unsure about striking up that delicate turn of conversation while surrounded by their classmates and the expectation that their teacher could walk in at any moment. "I did."

"Seriously? I can't imagine you as anything other than fresh-faced and ice cold from the moment your mum pushed you out," Kōshi muttered.

"My mother had to have a rather risky C-section," Kiyoko sniffed. "And I'll have you know that flawless skin is something to strive for, fresh-faced _or_ acne prone."

Kōshi wanted to utter an apology, having not known that about Kiyoko, but it died in his throat the moment their Sensei walked into the classroom. There are a lot of things the team do not know about Kiyoko Shimizu – that she was a C-section baby was one, but there are many more titbits of knowledge they are yet to learn other than that she's diligent and devoted to being the club's manager.

She's cold often, though 'reserved' may be a more flattering term for Kiyoko's behaviour. There are aspects of her personality, much like Kōshi's own, that Kiyoko covets and keeps to herself. Kōshi can understand that; he works hard to keep his bitterness at bay. There are times though when a sly smile will break through onto Kiyoko's face, which were generally the cause for Daichi's raised hackles.

Fifty minutes of symbolism, reading aloud, and discussions that leave Kōshi in a flap about his life choices and why he picked _Modern Literature of all things_ , and the pair's hushed conversation continues.

"It's not about the boys so much as the preparation and refining involved before making a conquest," Kiyoko utters lowly. "I learned so much more than just how to flirt; my Senpai taught me about personal hygiene, rational thinking, spiking, picking up basic manipulation, how to control my expressions, simple first aid, reading people, little things like that which add up in the end."

"Wait- 'manipulation'? 'spiking'?"

"Oh dear, Sensei seems to want to start the lesson again," Kiyoko interjected, flipping open the novel their class were reading through page by agonising page this term.

* * *

Kōshi had repeated 'Confidence lessons – yes, just that' so many times that afternoon his tongue automatically moved to form the words whenever someone attempted to speak to him.

If anyone – _anyone_ – asked him again about it, or about Hitoka, he was going to scream.

Kōshi loved Daichi, he really really did, but sometimes the teen could irk him with all of his fretting and oblivious nature to more pressing issues when ensnared by something else entirely. Like right now, as Daichi glared holes into the back of Kiyoko's neck.

"Hitoka-Chan is really unsure of herself, and Kiyoko-San is not," Kōshi pointed out. "It makes sense that the two would be there to help one another, right?"

"And they're including you?"

 _Because you asked me to barge in on their meetings,_ Kōshi thought snidely.

He forced a smile onto his face, scrubbing at the back of his neck with one hand in manner that could be deemed sheepish. "I guess, since I'm the Vice Captain and look out for the team while you organise everything, Kiyoko-San thought I had a more… _feminine_ touch to me they could use."

That was a crock of lies. Kōshi knew it. He hoped Daichi didn't.

While Kōshi was the more caring of the two of them (seeing as he was better with all the emotional stuff and spirit-raising), that did not mean Daichi had a selfish bone in his body. He just wasn't brilliant at conveying his caring like Kōshi could. Kōshi could work with that – could bolster what Daichi already had to work with.

It was one of the things Kōshi loved about him.

He stilled, jolting as a receive he could have easily picked up bounced past him; the opposite team scoring the a one-point advantage in their little practice game.

"Where's your head, Suga?" Called Coach Ukai, whistle blaring sharply to signal the volleyball being punted back into play.

Suga's 'head', so to speak, and his attention had been solely fixated on how he'd just said – in his mind thank the powers that be – that he loved Daichi Sawamura. Loved _parts_ of him, his _personality_. Suga mentally shook himself; that was it, he loved Daichi in the sense that friends loved one another – liked! _Liked_ was the better word to use in this situation. He _liked_ Daichi, _a lot._

Nothing more.

Right?

That had to be it. Kōshi had just got his vocabulary mixed up in the same way people mixed up Kanji readings. There were too many Kanji for one to be bothered to learn these days just as there were so many feelings one could possibly feel at any given moment – far too complicated to unpack in a split second.

That was what Kōshi was telling himself, anyway.

Distracted, Kōshi's gaze wandered across the gym while he waited for the opposition team in this minigame to return the ball to his side of the court. His eyes skimmed over Kiyoko and Hitoka (jotting down notes) but lingered over Daichi. Kōshi ripped his attention away, leaping in for a receive. He scrambled to his feet, darting down the court while Tanaka and Asahi set themselves up to return the favour for Daichi's little team.

The puckered frown on Daichi's face while Suga set for Asahi was incredibly distracting (he wanted to smooth out the creases and ridges forming on Daichi's face with a gentle swipe of his fingertips,) and Kōshi nearly flubbed his aim at Asahi's awaiting spike.

Kōshi gulped.

The solitary, resounding thud of the volleyball made, as Asahi's spike landed home happened just as Kōshi came to a stuttering realisation of his own. It was as though Asahi's spike was replaying in time with Kōshi's heartbeat.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

 _You. Love. Him._

There was nothing Kōshi's logical Gemini side could do to save him now. He'd been in deep – swimming in a high tide and just never realised it – but now there was nothing to save him from the feelings he was going to drown in currently flooding through his system.

Kōshi had been struggling without knowing it for all these years, and now he'd simply given in.

Perhaps… perhaps it was time to speak with Kiyoko himself?

One further glance to the elder manager and her protégé had Kōshi flinching back in surprise. She was surveying him, her glasses tinted oddly in the afternoon sunshine. Kōshi wasn't sure he liked how her gaze pierced knowingly through him.

Distracting himself with offering Asahi and Tanaka a few words of encouragement Kōshi put Kiyoko's expression to the back of his mind for now – and his own discovery too. It was as though she _knew_.

It appeared, unlike Daichi, Kōshi and their teammates, that Kiyoko Shimizu had been learning a lot about herself (and others) for the past two years. To a frightening degree, it would seem, if she could pluck the muted look of realised horror off of Kōshi's face and dissect it in seconds.

She would be the one to talk to, should Kōshi feel the need.

But not yet. No. He was going to go it alone for a bit longer; see where his discovery took him and perhaps invest in some grape juice to drown his own sorrows in.

Kōshi Sugawara was in love with his best friend. A fact that he himself had only just noticed twenty minutes ago. A fact that Daichi Sawamura wasn't going to notice himself for a very, very long time, should Kōshi play his cards right.

Or ever really.

Daichi never finding out would be preferable, yeah.


	2. I Don't Have The Pelvis For A Futon

**A/N [14/08/2018]:** Okay, so I think updates are going to be every other day. So the next time I'll updates is [16/08/2018], yeah?

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 **Notice Me, Daichi**

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 _I Don't Have the Pelvis for a Futon (1)_ **  
**

* * *

Suga woke on the first morning of the Tokyo training camp, to Nishinoya trying to pry the curtains apart. Someone called out for the Libero to stop, but Noya was one for early starts and he was one of those (disgusting) 'morning people.' From the corner of his eye – vision still blurry from sleep – Kōshi could see something pink and sparkly emerging from underneath Asahi's covers.

Both Asahi and Kōshi groaned as Noya flung back the curtain and light filtered into the room at an alarming rate. As Asahi groggily rose from his futon, the flicker of a camera's flash shot through the room. Kōshi startled, noticing that it was Daichi who had taken the photo of Asahi with a fetching pair of pigtails.

"Don't tell him," Daichi mouthed to his Vice Captain as Kōshi crawled from his futon to stretch. Kōshi mimed zipping his lips back, watching Daichi pocket his phone. Asahi still hadn't realised his hair was being held back out of his usual style – and wouldn't realise until someone pointed it out during breakfast – too zombified by the events yesterday to care about his appearance.

They'd had a tiring first day at the camp, and Kōshi felt especially drained the morning afterwards. Any source of amusement or morale building could be appreciated, even if it was at the expense of Asahi in distinctly feminine hair bands – and Kōshi was sure that those particular ties were Hitoka's. That meant Noya had gone calling for supplies at an ungodly hour, and each of the volleyball teams participating in the training camp would have some grumpy managers on their hands.

Not only had Karasuno had to put up with multiple punishments (as part of their post-match forfeit), Hitoka had been bumbling about like a fledgling chick who'd fallen from the nest too early.

If the girl hadn't been so shaky on her legs – and hadn't left a distraught silvery snot trail discreetly down the seam of Kōshi's practice bib while he'd tried dragging her over to Kiyoko – then Kōshi wouldn't have been so worried. From what he could tell, Bokuto was intimidating in the sense that he was loud and pushy. Nothing malicious. Hitoka just looked like a strong breeze would bowl her over, and she'd become overwhelmed while speaking with Fukurōdani's Ace and Vice Captain.

Kōshi had wondered whether Kiyoko was pushing Hitoka too soon to complete her training, but naturally the elder manager had an answer for him; they'd talked between snatched breaks while Kōshi towelled down his sweaty face and took huge gulps from the water bottles Hitoka kept refilling.

"She'll have to do it sometime, you understand," Kiyoko had told Kōshi, and he'd sighed in return.

Yes, Shimizu was right. Hitoka would have to 'do it' at some point – 'it' being the seduction of three hand-picked targets – but from the way Hitoka flinched whenever Bokuto was in close proximity, Kōshi couldn't justify _now_ being the correct time for Hitoka to… _seduce._

It didn't help that Daichi was on the prowl again, like a concerned mother hen.

(Honestly, weren't they supposed to be a team of crows?)

"What's wrong with Yachi-Chan?" He'd ask Kōshi, watching their manager-in-training dithering by Coach Ukai and trying her best to look busy (and at anything not Kōtarō Bokuto) as Fukurōdani's Ace bounded about on court.

"I think she's getting overwhelmed with all of the people here," Kōshi told him through (gritted) smiling teeth. "It's very endearing. She's trying her best to persevere, but I think Hitoka-Chan would like a break sooner rather than later. I have to say I feel a little overstimulated myself."

"Lunch is coming up," Daichi hummed. "Shimizu-San will send her back to our rooms if Yachi-Chan feels worse, right?"

"Of course," Kōshi agreed. Kiyoko knew when and when not to push someone. Or so he hoped.

Kiyoko did seem rather attentive to Hitoka, and Kōshi knew for certain that whatever Kiyoko had undergone during her own training wasn't going to repeat itself during Hitoka's. Kōshi got the impression that whatever had happened to make Kiyoko Shimizu into a young woman who preferred to wear a mask crafted from ice instead of sunny smiles, had stemmed from her 'training'. Kiyoko had stressed that Hitoka go at her own pace – and to what she felt comfortable with.

There were problems upon problems gathering onto Kōshi's shoulders. Daichi needed him to be a strong and attentive Vice Captain. The aforementioned also wanted a 'person on the inside', so to speak, concerning Hitoka's lessons and strange behaviour. Kiyoko needed someone vaguely sane to chat with about Hitoka, Hitoka needed him when Kiyoko wasn't around to pick up the pieces, and _now_ Kōshi was worried about Kiyoko too. Plus, there were his own issues to deal with, like that startling realisation from a few weeks ago.

Kōshi felt like his body was being pulled apart into different directions under the weight of all these responsibilities and concerns. Surely he was too young to have to deal with all this shi–

* * *

Day three of the camp, and Kōshi felt incredibly grumpy.

Asahi had swapped his assigned futon with Daichi's, because the latter was the furthest away from the window and in a shadier corner of their shared room. That hadn't worried Kōshi at all, and with Noya flinging open the curtains again that morning, he could see why Asahi would want to move. Even if the petty action only gave him a few moments more of sleep, it would be worth it.

Kōshi's treacherous heart had done a little flip inside his chest at the thought of Daichi being so near, but then he'd thought back to all the times Karasuno's Captain had slept over at his house – and vice versa – through the years. Kōshi had told himself not to be so silly. It didn't mean anything.

Waking up to Daichi sprawled across the gap between their respective futons, with Kōshi mirroring him somewhat so that they met in the middle, Kōshi had had to bite his lip and shuffle back into the centre of the thin mattress.

He pulled his arms and legs back underneath the quilt-like covering, hoping that by pulling the latter up over his chin the others in the room would think he was red-faced from being too warm in bed, and not because Kōshi had worked himself into a fluster.

It wasn't fair. They were using futons – and Kōshi _hated_ futons (no matter how he lay when trying to sleep in one he could never get comfortable, and his hips always ached after he had used one.) So, with achy legs from the day before, and stupid futons to sleep on, Daichi doing something like _that_ (even without intending to do so) was the last straw.

It wasn't _fair_. Kōshi was going to have to smother himself with his own coverings before Daichi killed him off with his cute, slightly-pouty sleeping face first. Sometimes Daichi frowned and it took all that Kōshi had not to coo and smooth out the creases between Daichi's brows with his thumb. Kōshi had responsibilities, and a little denial, and- and…

No, he wasn't thinking about this yet. Ever, actually.

Things were okay as they were, and that was fine. As the old adage went, 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it.' There was too much at stake for Kōshi to go about talking about his feelings willy-nilly. He wasn't like Hitoka or Kiyoko; he didn't have the luxury of pursuing someone far away from his own team, because with his own team his heart lay.

As corny as that was, Kōshi wasn't the least bit surprised he felt such a way now that he'd kind of, sorta, _maaaaaybe_ come to terms with his feelings. Daichi made people feel safe – made them feel wanted, and useful. He was there to pick you up when you were down, and in a pinch knew just what to say to put you back on track (despite being positively crap with emotions sometimes.)

How could you not fall for someone like that?

The answer was easy. If someone like Daichi Sawamura was who you were attracted to, you had no hope but to fall.

To minimise showing just how far gone Kōshi was with his unrequited crush (because it couldn't be more serious than that, ha ha… it would go away surely…) he spent a lot of time mingling with players from other teams. It was a risky move, if one was paranoid to think these teams might in turn learn something about Kōshi that they could potentially exploit in a match, but for Kōshi the reprieve from Karasuno – from Daichi – was a welcomed one.

He spent most of time with Yaku; a soul similar to himself in their motherly mannerisms. Kōshi, dubbed 'Sugamama' by Hitoka, was great at unpacking others' problems and dealing with disputes between teammates. Yaku did everything in between. The guy had a stash of tissues on him at all times just in case Kenma sneezed.

Having a bit of chat and a bite to eat on their last day of the training camp, Yaku and Suga looked like two socialising mothers at the playground. Then Hitoka had to go bumbling about through a hoard of super tall, super scary volleyball players, choke on chargrilled (or was that charcoal?) meat, and land herself in a sticky situation as the scary volleyball players jumped to the aid of a cute girl.

Ordinarily, Kōshi would have rolled his eyes and stepped in to help her, but he had to wonder whether Hitoka was using her cluelessness as a flirtation tactic now rather than her being genuinely terrified.

At that, Kōshi spit onigiri everywhere in horror.

(After giving him a _look_ , Yaku whipped out a tissue and swabbed his arm free of rice.)

Kōshi subtly started mingling more after that. He'd lost his cool over Hitoka waddling about like a lost baby bird, but she'd been perfectly fine. Asahi (the scariest of the Karasuno lot from Hitoka's perspective) had been there to wrangle her away – after getting some decent, non-charcoaled food on her disposable plate. Left to her own dithery devices, Hitoka probably wouldn't have eat that night. Kōshi wasn't sure whether she'd even ate her dinner the night before, what with Kōtarō, um, bleeding all over her.

That had to be enough to put you off of food for a bit, right?

Scanning the crowds for people he could socialise with and not embarrass himself further, Kōshi meandered through throngs of people. He spotted Kiyoko surrounded by the other assembled managers, seeming at home and more sociable that Kōshi had seen in a while; a pleased smile was tugging at the corners of Kiyoko's mouth as she watched Asahi guide Hitoka between the barbeque grills.

Daichi was rubbing shoulders with Nekoma's Captain – Kuroo, Kōshi believed his name was. What Kōshi didn't quite like was the distinct 'Cat that got the cream' grin Kuroo would flash at Daichi as the pair teamed up on a grouchy Tsukishima. Those grins poked and prodded at something nasty and jealous deep down within Kōshi, and he was half temped to march across the grass and snatch Daichi away from Nekoma's Captain.

But Bokuto was joining in too; three Captains were now forcing meat and grilled veggies on Tsukishima – the latter looking around blankly for Yamaguchi or any possible route of escaping the barrage of food. Kōshi had never seen such an apathetic expression of panic on anyone before, but somehow Tsukishima was making it work.

Daichi scooped up something off of his plate with his chopsticks, brandishing it to Tsukishima like a parent bird trying to feed their young, and Kōshi's eyes clouded over as he thought of how nice it would be for Daichi to feed him something off of his chopsticks.

Shaking his head, Karasuno's Vice Captain plumped for sitting with Tanaka and Nishinoya – mainly to keep them out of further trouble. This had been the second time that afternoon he'd dreamt up weird scenarios in his head: Two times too many.

Perhaps a talk with Kiyoko about his silly crush would be necessary after all. He'd make sure to speak with her once Karasuno had returned from the training camp, and once Hitoka was well on her way to finding her next target. She came first after all, and Kōshi could deal with a little jealousy. It was nothing to bother himself with, just a silly little feeling that he shouldn't be, well, feeling at all.

No big deal.

Across the way, Daichi shared a smile with Kuroo.

Kōshi ground his teeth together. _No big deal._

* * *

 **(1)** "I don't have the pelvis for a futon" - Petula Gordino, _Dinnerladies_ (Series 1, Episode 5)


	3. Wonderful Trick

**Notice Me, Daichi**

* * *

 _Wonderful Trick_

* * *

Kōshi had armed himself ready for what was about to happen.

He was stood, shifting self-consciously on the balls of his feet, outside of Kiyoko's home. Looped around his left hand were the cutting plastic handles of a carrier bag; the material strained under the weight of a large, slowly warming carton of grape juice and a 'family' variety of biscuits Kōshi had plucked off the convenience store's shelves without paying attention to their price.

There went his allowance for this week. He hoped the biscuits were worth it, at least.

While he couldn't see them, or the offenders, Kōshi certainly felt eyes roaming his appearance. He gulped, pushing open the gate to the drive way adjacent to Kiyoko's suburban home. The area was rather intimidating. The sound of gravel crunching under his feet was deadening in the quiet neighbourhood. Not so much as a car dared to whisper through the pristine streets.

Kōshi presumed that litter just upped and magicked itself from the ground should it be dropped or be blown past Kiyoko's house. Japan was fairly good at endorsing not-littering the streets one walked along, but there were a select minority of people who still dumped the contents of their bags where the rest of the public could see it. That was not, however, the case in this suburban area.

Just as Kōshi made to rap on the front door, it swung open expectantly. Bushes rustled to his right.

"Come in, Kōshi-San," Kiyoko greeted him. However, there was a chilling undertone to her words. "I'm glad we can work through this _homework project_ together."

"…Ah…" Kōshi contributed weakly, letting Kiyoko pull him inside.

The elder of Karasuno's manager's offered him a pair of guest slippers waiting in the genkan, and Kōshi thankfully slipped off his trainers.

"I'm sorry for how abrupt that greeting was, Kōshi-San," Kiyoko told him. "Hasagawa-San, our neighbour, is the gossip of the entire street. By tea time it will be known around these parts that I had a boy over, though I've tried my best to sew an academic seed."

This 'Hasagawa-San' had been the source of the rustling bushes then.

"That bad, huh?" Kōshi had met those types before. His mother was friends with some, but she at least knew when to keep her mouth buttoned and when to gently rib someone about their private life.

Kiyoko hummed, gesturing for him to follow her down the hall into the kitchen. "While my parents trust me to be mature and independent, Hasagawa-San is fond of twisting truths into tall tales. Generally, it is for my own peace of mind and for an easy life that I stressed this was an academic meet up."

Kiyoko pulled two wine glasses from a kitchen cupboard, and Kōshi helpfully cracked open the plastic seal on the juice carton he had brought along.

"We'd do best not to raise our voices." Kiyoko gestured to an open window behind her, which overlooked a modest, but tidily-kept garden. "Walls have ears, as the saying goes."

Kōshi's mouth popped open in shock just a little. He'd heard and experienced first hand the horror of nosy neighbours, but surely this was taking it too far? To be hounded in your own home by a woman twice your age?

Was this why Kiyoko's masked never dropped? Kōshi had wondered if it had been a learned behaviour – one maintained for so long that a dependency of being severely apathetic was all that kept Kiyoko Shimizu regular – or if it was a result of something terrible. Kiyoko closing herself off would make sense if she'd been hurt in the past, and Kōshi felt that he, Daichi, and the entire team would band together and curb stomp whoever had dared to hurt their manager.

Did Kiyoko ever just… relax?

( _Sometimes,_ Kōshi realised, _she slips around Hitoka._ Understandable really, as the plucky, stammering blonde was very easy to get along with.)

"So," Kiyoko began, swirling the juice around in her glass after the pair settled comfortably in her bedroom. Kōshi eyed another open window balefully. Would the neighbour be scaling up the drainpipe to listen in? "What exactly was it that you wanted to talk about with me today?"

"Um…"

Kiyoko's eyebrows raised.

Kōshi began to sweat.

He drained his juice in three large gulps, spilling a drop down his chin and staining the collar of his pale blue t-shirt. Kiyoko clicked her tongue reproachfully; Hasagawa-San would be noticing the acquisition of his stain. No doubt Kiyoko would have to concoct another falsified titbit for Hasagawa-San to swallow in order for her reputation in the neighbourhood to go untainted.

Kiyoko was still staring, and Kōshi snapped to attention. He'd been silent and looking off in confusion at the amassed plush toys in the corner.

"I wanted to… to ask you about something."

"Right."

They lapsed into silence. Kiyoko slipped a biscuit from the packaging (they hadn't bothered with a plate, seeing as the box presented the biscuits quite nicely and the packaging had a guide of which biscuit was which,) the subtle _snap_ as she took a demure bite had Kōshi flinching.

"'something'?" Kiyoko probed after chewing her small bite thoroughly.

"… Something."

Kiyoko sighed. "Kōshi-San, I don't know about yourself, but generally I find conversations or advice-asking work on the premise of their being an _actual_ topic of conversation."

"I know that," Kōshi retorted, jittery fingers running through his bangs. "I know that," he said again, in a far quieter voice.

"Then what are you so nervous about?" Kiyoko pressed. "You're here for a reason, I take it – so _speak_. I cannot help you otherwise."

"Right."

Kiyoko pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Kōshi-San," she said warningly.

"I know alright! It's just – this is… this is _delicate_ -"

"Oh," Kiyoko almost crooned. "Is this about your raging feelings for one Daichi Sawamura?"

Kiyoko launched herself across her rug to slap her hands across Kōshi's mouth before he could screech indignantly and have half the neighbourhood clambering over the strange noises originating from the Shimizu household.

* * *

"I don't really see what there is to worry about," said Kiyoko a while later, after the pair had talked rationally – well, Kiyoko had. Kōshi had remained flustered throughout the duration of their conversation. He felt somewhat better for speaking to someone about it all though.

Kōshi tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"

"Well, there isn't a lot for you to lose." Was Kiyoko _mental?_ There was everything to lose!

Daichi was his best friend. You weren't supposed to fall in love with your best friend unless that best friend was someone you'd been in a mutual relationship in for years and whom you rather mushily called your best friend because all of your high school mates were estranged from you now. While that was oddly specific, Kōshi had a) not been estranged from his friends just yet, and b) hadn't been in a mutual, loving relationship with anyone, ever.

Plus, a relationship would only mess up things up for the team, and that was the last thing they needed. Tsukishima was his own little ball of spite (they really needed to sic someone other than Yamaguchi on the tall blond to try and banish his sass), and Hinata and Kageyama… well, let's just say Kōshi wanted children who came pre-housetrained when he desired to start a family.

Kōshi wasn't even sure about which way he swung, for crying out loud. Or if he swung at all-

Well, whatever. Karasuno didn't require any further teenage drama.

"You're thinking too loud," Kiyoko interjected, flicking Kōshi harshly on the forehead.

The silver-haired teen rubbed the sore patch on his skin with a pout. "There's a lot to think about. My head is so noisy these days."

"I can imagine." Kōshi's expression, which read simply as 'No, I'm sure you can't', made Kiyoko frown. "I didn't tell you or Hitoka about my targets, did I?"

"No…?" Kōshi broached gingerly.

"I've quite forgotten the names of the first two, and their faces. They were easy. A Flirt and an Idiot are the quickest to fall if you play the game correctly," Kiyoko informed Kōshi, much to his abject dismay. "Boulder-types are a little trickier though."

(What was this, Pokemon?)

"Tetsu attended Date Tech. He was in his third year, and I, in my first." Already, Kōshi didn't like where this was going. "Up until meeting him, I'd been fine with all of my targets. I didn't see the harm of stealing a quick kiss from each of the first two, and my own Senpai didn't restrict me in how I seduced like I have done with Hitoka."

(Kōshi really didn't like where this was going.)

"My Senpai wrote me a complete list of instructions. I'd completed my lessons at this point, so in theory I should have disposed of any evidence of this tradition ever existing. I really liked Tetsu, you see… still kind of-" Kiyoko coughed. "We hit it off quite nicely, despite what others thought of his appearances."

Warmth curled in Kiyoko's eyes, and though Kōshi didn't know it, she still thought fondly of piercings, jet black ink on skin, facial hair, and roguish features.

"He was a sweetheart. A true gentleman. He would have never have hurt me, I knew that – made me feel things that I'd never felt before. Tetsu had this wonderful trick he could do with his-"

"Okay," Kōshi coughed. "I think that's a little too much for me to know, right?"

Kiyoko arched an eyebrow daringly. "He had this wonderful trick he could do with his pectoral muscles. Sometimes when he flexed his front muscles too much, his back would twitch, and his tattoo would dance. I used to have to rub balm onto his skin to ease the spasms."

"Oh."

Kiyoko smiled thinly. "Yes, it was quite the sight."

She sounded rather forlorn, actually. Kōshi had never heard of this mysterious 'Tetsu' before now, but he sounded exactly like Nishinoya and Tanaka combined in years to come. What a small world, really, for Kiyoko to have two prominent reminders of her one former target dogging her steps each day. No wonder she kept a blank face.

"What happened?" Kōshi dared to ask, interrupting Kiyoko's reverie.

Kiyoko took a deep breath. "I asked him to get something out of my bag for me once, and instead he found my Senpai's instructions. He cut me out of his life after that."

"Have you-"

"No, I've never seen him since that day." Kiyoko shook her head. "Believe me, I tried to work things out – tried to explain – but it was to little avail. So, Kōshi-San?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be me. Don't be afraid and give up. Fight for your feelings to be requited, fight for what – _who_ – you want. If it all comes crumbling down, then so be. Hitoka and I will be there to put you back together again, and to care for the team. But do not be ashamed of what you feel for Sawamura-San."

Kōshi's mouth gaped open. This was the most he'd heard Kiyoko talk about herself in, well, _ever_.

Kiyoko coyly took a sip of her juice. She smiled and tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. "You may just find, should you speak up, that Sawamura-San returns your feelings."

"Somehow I severely doubt that," Kōshi groused.

Kiyoko was going to respond, but then her phone bleeped. She checked the caller ID: Hitoka.

"I'd better answer this," she said, and Kōshi waved her off.

From what Kōshi could hear through the semi-inaudible muttering from the other end of the line, Hitoka had bumped into the second of her targets by chance, and possibly had some burns along her arm.

Brilliant.

Daichi was going to kill him if he and Shimizu turned up to practice with Hitoka half-mummified in bandages and burn cream in tow. Never mind expressing his feels, there'd be no heart-to-hearts if someone was injured under Kōshi's watch.

He wrestled the phone from Kiyoko's hands, and the rest, you could say, was that.

* * *

 **A/N [16/08/2018] :**

 **Bookworm Boi:** Thank you! I wouldn't say my writing is the best out there, but I'm glad you're enjoying what I'm posting, haha. I'm going to have to do a bit of research, because I've never heard of that before. My bad.


	4. Slap That (Get On the Court)

**A/N [18/08/2018] :** Whooo! One more chapter to go!

 **GUest -** Sometimes I wish my writing got a lot more attention than it does (is that narcissistic of me?). But on the flip side, I'd be really out of my comfort zone if any of my fics 'took off' so to speak. I'm really just thankful for anyone reading these... d( ^ _ ^ ;;)

* * *

 **Notice Me, Daichi**

* * *

 _Slap That (Get On the Court)_

* * *

To say Kōshi Sugawara had a chance of romancing his best friend was a gross understatement at this point.

Daichi was proving to be more difficult than the hardest route one could take in an Otome game. Not only did Daichi just not seem to pick up on Suga's odd behaviours or his withdrawal from physical contact (lest Karasuno's Vice Captain not be able to restrain himself), but all it took was one false move for Kōshi's path to not go any farther.

It was _GAME OVER,_ for sure. Kōshi couldn't see any other outcome. He'd been swallowing back down his rising feelings for well over a month and a half at this point, so surely the rest of Kōshi Sugawara's life would be a cake walk?

While Kōshi would have probably nominated Hinata or Kageyama for the title of 'Problem Child' – with Noya coming in as a notable nomination rather than being the winner this year – the crown had to have now passed to Hitoka Yachi. If Kōshi's hair wasn't already silver, it would have likely turned grey from stress already; how the girl – or rather her targets – managed to give him conniptions was beyond him.

Kōshi wasn't even supposed to be involved with Kiyoko's stupid tradition in the first place. In fact, why wasn't the hair on his head white as a sheet by now?

He knew that Hitoka didn't intend to go looking for trouble unless she knew what she was getting into (joining Karasuno as a manager had been one of those impulsive moments, but Hinata had been an enabler.) However, trouble certainly knew how to seek Hitoka out. ( _Why did it seek her out?_ Kōshi lamented.)

He also knew that while she'd been flustered over texting Oikawa all day, in no way shape or form – subliminal or direct – had Hitoka invited Oikawa down to torment them all. He just sort of… turned up, like an alley cat, and hadn't left.

Like with any socialised stray animal one showed a scrap of attention to, they just kept coming back again and again. Or they brought a friend – multiple friends, sometimes – with them the next time. Kōshi had spent a week playing alongside Owls and Cats, but nothing they could throw at him had prepared him for Tōru Oikawa's stubbornness.

Kōshi still had a distaste for Nekoma's Captain, but there was a threat closer to home than Tetsuro Kuroo. It was painfully obvious that Yui Michimiya was on the prowl, and while Kōshi was always pleasant to the girl – and in the past he'd even hustled other teammates away to give her and Daichi some _alone time_ (an act Kōshi now regretted deeply) – that didn't mean he was going to roll over and let her rain all over his indecisive parade.

Iwaizumi turning up to wrangle away his Captain and later ending up deeply involved in the madness had been a turn up for the books, seeing as the bloke had been quite closed off during Karasuno's practice match against Aobajōsai. Kōshi had hoped they'd disappear before things escalated and Daichi popped a blood vessel or something, but alas, forty minutes later the majority of Karasuno's team were the wonky third wheel on the Japan's most strained second date.

But hey, Kōshi had found some interesting ramen to drown his sorrows with at least. Daichi wasn't going to be speaking with him for a while – most likely believing Kōshi (and Kiyoko, he mustn't forget her) had something to do with Aobajōsai's Power Couple defiling Hitoka – and then Michimiya would win and Kōshi would live out his life alone.

If only Daichi knew. For a start, Kōshi was more involved that the aforementioned believed, and Kōshi had the sinking suspicious Michimiya was planning her own full-frontal assault. There was nothing Kōshi could do about the latter without him revealing his own hand, and he sulked for the duration of his walk home. And the ramen-boiling process. And eating said ramen.

Salty ramen for an even saltier Kōshi seemed like a good move at that moment.

Things were going to get awkward, fast, and Kōshi was going to have to go it alone. The niggling, negative feeling he'd felt during the training camp barbeque had returned tenfold. It twisted and stabbed at his guts, sent icy shivers down his back. Not even the soupy broth the ramen noodles swam in could warm Kōshi up inside. He spent the night tossing and turning in bed and hated himself for it the next day because there was a morning practice session to attend.

How did you make it up with someone you hadn't truly fallen out with? Daichi's dispute wasn't with Kōshi, yet the latter felt guilty over his involvement in Hitoka's 'confidence lessons' anyway. Though at this point Kōshi might well give up on his feelings altogether.

Speaking with Kiyoko had relieved a lot of his worries, honestly. He hadn't expected it to, and the added pressure of trying not to show Kiyoko up in front of her neighbours had been allowed Kōshi to calm himself and think through his own problems without added drama.

Knowing a little bit more about who exactly Kiyoko Shimizu was had been insightful too, even though the pair of them had had a little dispute over her phone once Hitoka had called. There were of course, little differences in each of their circumstances. Kōshi was trying his best not to be in love with his best friend (and failing.) Kiyoko had been hurt before, and her heart still stung. Hitoka was walking down a path closely monitored by Kiyoko, the elder of Karasuno's managers trying to make sure that what happened to her did not repeat itself.

Kōshi didn't feel 'at peace' with his feelings, or at the point – both around the tie of Karasuno's peak performance or in his own emotional stability – where he could outright confess. He did feel like he could cope from day to day, watching and growing alongside the one he cherished. For now, that was enough, because it was all Kōshi felt capable of doing. Cowardly, he knew, but he really didn't want to risk what he had now.

Taking that leap would be irrevocable, he knew. Kiyoko had been very supportive and open, but there was a crippling doubt swirling within Kōshi whispering about how Daichi probably didn't reciprocate what Kōshi felt for him. Still, if Daichi was mad about Hitoka being preyed upon but two third years from a rival team, Kōshi wouldn't be making that jump anytime soon. Being friends with him for now was enough.

Maybe Kōshi could get all sentimental once they'd graduated and offer Daichi the second button from his gakuran jacket? [1] That… well, it wasn't that far away truthfully, but first Karasuno had to work their way to the nationals.

Love could wait. Their chance at glory could not – it was now or never.

* * *

Defeating Aobajōsai hadn't been what Kōshi had expected as the outcome of their match. It was terrible of him to think the worst of their team, and Karasuno's first match against the other school shouldn't have set the tone for how this one had turned out – the team hadn't had Nishinoya or Asahi on side back then, and they were still working out the kinks despite Hinata and Kageyama's freakish quick.

Needless to say, scoring those vital few points – of clawing back during the final set and stealing the win right under Aobajōsai's noses – had been the quite literal game changer. Now all Karasuno had to do was beat Shiratorizawa.

Easy right?

If only Daichi would stop staring at Ushiwaka long enough to pay attention to what he should be doing; trying to wrangle their team into working order before their nerves shredded for good.

Things were bound to go wrong from the offset. Kōshi felt jittery, Daichi wouldn't stop staring down the competition, and the former's aim had been completely off. (Slapping his arse though? _Really?_ Kōshi was mortified…)

"We've just got to do what we've got to do, Dai-Chan," Kōshi told his friend and Captain softly, trying to ignore how both of their faces were flaming bright red.

Not four points into the match, Kōshi had lost his soft, hopeful words and had exchanged them for screaming at Daichi to keep calm. Honestly, he could see the Captain's mind working overtime as he plotted to make up the points Karasuno had lost to Shiratorizawa, and it was painful. So Kōshi screamed, and ranted, and raved, and drew the ire of the referee (and the silent horror of his teammates who recoiled from such a display of Kōshi's temper.)

Fortunately, it was effective. Daichi's shoulder's relaxed into a gentle slope; his posture during receives wasn't tightly wound and taut anymore – in favour of a fluid movement only Nishinoya could rival in terms of defence speciality.

That was Kōshi's Daichi out there. Doing his thing, in charge and in control of his emotions. It had been strange seeing him act like a panicked loose cannon – usually such behaviour was left to Hinata. He knew Daichi was still distracted. Ushijima was too, his attention flitting occasionally to the stands.

Kōshi supposed he should be proud of Hitoka's input. She was the one creating the interference after all, and he was sure Kiyoko was positively beaming deep down inside at seeing her student at work. Actually, it was fairly interesting to see it unfurl from Kōshi's perspective, or, it would have been had Kōshi not needed to concentrate on what was happening on the court.

Karasuno were clinging on, barely.

 _Hitoka_ , he thought at the end of the second set, mentally clapping his hands together in prayer. _Work your magic, please_.

By whatever miracle Hitoka had unwittingly cast, great luck, Michimiya's ( _uurghhh)_ charm, the power of arse slapping, or Nishinoya not being flustered by the title Daichi had given him – Kōshi wasn't sure what had clinched Karasuno's win – they had done it.

They'd battled Aobajōsai only a day before, they were _tired_ (so tired…) But Karasuno had done it. They were going to the Nationals. It was almost worth the mortification early before the match had even begun. (Kōshi kept replaying what had happened in his mind. The feeling of gym shorts and a set of illegally firm buttocks forever imprinted onto Kōshi's palm.)

Daichi still wasn't satisfied though. Japan and his creepy teammate were still staring at the secondary manager.

"Maybe he was using the stands as a focal point," Kōshi had offered, leading Daichi back to Karasuno's assigned changing room.

"He was definitely looking at Hitoka," Daichi had replied, and something in Kōshi melted at hearing Daichi call the girl by her first name. Would he ever stop calling him 'Suga'? Would Kōshi ever fall from his lips instead?

On the day that the aforementioned happened, Kōshi Sugawara would be in big, biiiiiiig trouble. Trouble with a capital 'T' for sure.

Kōshi exchanged a few more words with Daichi. Felt bitterness on his tongue. Then, he stood stock still with his volleyball shirt partway over the top of his head (looking very much like a Nun trying to escape their garb) as a hand pet once lightly at his rump.

"Thanks Sugamama."

Kōshi's face was bright red. "Anytime, Dadchi," he choked back.

 _Oh, I'm so done for,_ Kōshi groaned. _No need for a fork, I'm a smouldering mess already._

Daichi's topic of conversation steered back to Hitoka, and Kōshi felt like he could breathe once again. It was disappointed, of course. The pair of them had been having a _moment._ Would it have been appropriate to jump his Captain while the two of them (and the rest of the team) were getting changed together?

Probably not.

Thank the Guardian Deities that be for Hitoka Yachi, Kiyoko Shimizu, and Daichi Sawamura's bloody 'intervention'. Kōshi was just about reigning his sanity back in once more.

* * *

 **[1]** The second button is closest to the heart, and closest to the feelings. They're often given out after graduation ceremonies during confessions, as most likely you've worn/carried that uniform/those feelings for the past three years.


	5. Birthmarks

**Notice Me, Daichi**

* * *

 _Birthmarks_

* * *

The few days Karasuno were given to recuperate after their two consecutive victories (and how they had qualified for the _Nationals!_ ) had been strange. Coach Ukai had essentially just set the team loose for a while to recover their strength. While many of Karausno's Boys Volleyball Club were classmates, hanging around together in and after class just wasn't the same without a workout.

There was nothing to mutually bond over; Daichi liked to father people, Asahi needed a certain level of human interaction to keep him from retreating into himself shyly, and Kōshi needed the club's meetups as a way to wander round with Kiyoko and Hitoka and not look suspicious now that the latter was romantically involved.

Kiyoko seeking him out one lunchtime had been a surprise. Not an unwelcome one, but still a surprise.

The other thing that practice provided was a distraction – a way to buffer the intensity one could feel trapped with people you were close to in a small room. Without practice sessions being held, there was nothing to stop Kōshi from flinching under Daichi's wary gaze while Kiyoko led him away.

Kōshi was so perturbed by the feeling that he dazedly agreed to a bet with Shimizu over whether Hitoka's latest suitor would turn up or not to uphold his promise. Later on, when he'd shaken off his ill feelings, Kōshi would wonder just _what_ he'd agreed to.

Then Daichi had to go and hold an intervention; bandying together a rag tag group from their team (as if they weren't already a bunch of degenerates already?) in defence of Hitoka Yachi's honour. What Daichi's reaction would be, should he ever find out that Hitoka was putting herself into the limelight and preying affections of their rivals, Kōshi hoped he would never discover. Like with Aobajōsai's power couple turning up on Karasuno's doorstep, stealing a quick peck on both of Hitoka's cheeks, and leaving Kōshi in the doghouse, the latter prayed for another incident like that again.

Daichi refusing to talk to him had been unbearable. Worse than the sickly, jealous feeling Kōshi had churning in the bottom of his stomach when Michimiya or Kuroo were concerned – for which Kōshi had felt instantly guilty and shameful for feeling in the first place.

Daichi blocking Kōshi's voice of reason out in favour of his own bull-headed plans was also just as unbearable. They were supposed to be a team – a married couple in the eyes of their first years (and didn't thank make Kōshi blush just _thinking_ about it) – how could that teamwork flourish if Daichi refused to listen?

Kōshi understood that sometimes Daichi just had to learn things on his own, which was maybe why he was in a bit of a huff about Hitoka's 'safety'. But if Daichi for a minute thought that Ushiwaka would lay a finger on their little manager without consent, then he was sorely mistaken. Wakatoshi Ushijima took propriety to an almost antiquated level.

(While it was sweet of him to treat Hitoka like the young lady she deserved to be, Kōshi was still surprised Japan could feel emotions, really…)

Finding out that Hitoka had been walked to her bus stop by Karasuno's Captain, and that the pair had shared an emotional heart to heart on a bench was both disconcerting and relieving. This had come after Ushiwaka had turned up to ask permission to 'court' Hitoka.

Again, Kōshi had been misunderstood like he had in the café. Shouldn't have Ushijima just asked Hitoka like she was her own person, rather than him or Daichi? They didn't control the girl – in fact, if anyone was to be asked about permission to date Hitoka, it should have been Yachi-San or even Kiyoko, right? Hitoka was her own person though, and after seeing how her eyes lit up around Wakatoshi Ushijima (and how they were all rendered speechless by his tiny smile), Kōshi believed that if Ushijima had asked her out there and then in the café Hitoka would have bit his hand off in agreeance.

With Hitoka finally sorted and starting her own romantic journey, Kōshi was willing to admit that his own path led (frankly) nowhere.

Daichi was as dense as a bag of rocks, and nothing Kiyoko Shimizu said would convince him otherwise.

She'd snatched his wallet – and the pitiful remainder of his allowance – shortly after Japan had whisked Hitoka away; leading him to a combini and then a park where the two discussed their 'feelings.'

"I thought you said that you were going to do something about your moping," Kiyoko said, slurping gingerly from the straw she'd just stabbed into her carton of juice.

Today they'd picked up grape juice and some kind of fruit gummies instead of biscuits; both feeling they needed the sugar but Kōshi really just trying to scrimp back whatever money he could. Big packs of cookies or a variety box of biscuits were expensive, and if he had to go and ask his parents for an advancement on his next allowance then they would undoubtedly ask why he needed it. Should Kōshi fail to answer, that would lead his mother to snooping (or as she called it, tidying his room); no doubt looking for incriminating _evidence_.

(Kōshi wasn't one to hide his 'dirty' magazines under his bed. He'd learnt from that one when he was younger and filching them from his parents' room; he rotated his hiding places every couple of weeks just to keep his Okaa-San on her toes and her snooping skills sharp.)

"No," Kōshi sighed, sticking a gummy into his mouth just to try and avoid talking.

Kiyoko waited for him to finish chewing. Kōshi's shoulders drooped.

"I don't know what to do," he said. "I'm happy for Hitoka, really I am, I just-"

"It's hard, isn't it?"

 _How did she guess tha-_ "…Yes."

"I know," said Kiyoko. "I feel the same way."

Then Kōshi realised: Tetsu. Seeing Hitoka happy, knowing that she'd disposed of any evidence connecting her to Karasuno's Intimidation Seduction Strategy ('KISS' for short – Kōshi was proud of himself for coming up with that one) that could lead to devastation, watching her have that happy ending. It was great, but it left a bittersweet aftertaste on the palate.

Both Hitoka and Wakatoshi were awkward, and they were afforded the luxury of bumbling through their feelings together. Kiyoko and Kōshi were older, and wiser, and more jaded than the pair combined.

"I am happy for my student, who wouldn't be?" Kiyoko continued. "But at the same time, I want nothing more than to be her in that situation."

Kōshi hummed distractedly. That was one way of summarising how he felt. But Kiyoko had had her rosy-romance experience. Kōshi had not. (Mainly because Daichi didn't look at him like Ushijima looked at Hitoka – as thought there was nothing else worthwhile he could look at; as though he was a starving man and she was long-needed sustenance; as though she hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for him…)

"Maybe we're cursed?" Kōshi pondered.

Kiyoko snorted delicately. "How though?"

Idly, Kōshi traced his fingertips over his face. Their charms? Gracefulness? He blinked in surprise. "Our… Our _birthmarks_."

"Mine is a beauty mark," Kiyoko corrected snootily, frowning as Kōshi scoffed.

"That's a birthmark if ever I saw it," he retorted. "And I know for certain that while they're eye-catching, they're also a bloody pain and possibly warding away the men in our lives."

Kiyoko took another gummy from the pack. They'd struggled to open it, and now the plastic had split awkwardly down the front of the bag and flapped a little in the afternoon breeze. "Well, I think your logic is flawed. For one, my _beauty_ mark draws people in."

"Yeah," Kōshi rolled his eyes. "Nishinoya and Tanaka."

"They're people."

 _Are you sure about that?_ Kōshi thought, thinking back to how Nishinoya never seemed to damage anything when he flung himself to the ground, and Tanaka's animalistic temper. Hinata and Kageyama were giving the second years a run for their money in freakiness, but Nishinoya and Tanaka were who came to mind for Kōshi whenever he thought about inhuman tenacity. Tanaka bounced back (his mood swings were like whiplash,) and Noya just _bounced._ Everywhere.

With his superstition over their birthmarks tucked away in his mind, Kōshi wandered through the next week. His stomach dropped whenever Hitoka would smile fondly at whatever sappy Shakespearian text Ushiwaka had sent to her, wondering if he too would ever look so happily at something so mundane in his life.

Maybe it was time for Kōshi to cut his losses?

The only time Kōshi had ever thought Daichi was interested, when looking back through his memories, was when he'd flashed a little thigh during a cheer. Daichi had been the one to yank the hem of Kōshi's shorts back down in a panic, but at the time Kōshi had been more upset about being shut down than over what a scene he'd been causing. Or if Daichi was flustered at all; Kōshi was proud of his toned thighs. He could see why they'd be distracting.

Come to think of it, was that the staring moment on which Kiyoko had based her assumption that Kōshi was a fellow tease?

Either way, to Kōshi's knowledge nothing about his space – though it was spectacular in his own opinion – had drawn Daichi Sawamura's attention. His thigh in a fit of panic? Sure. But Suga's face and personality? Probably nothing more than friendship in that respect. Who wouldn't want to get to know the genteel beauty, especially if they got along with you so well?

Daichi was smart, and as Vice Captain, Suga complimented him well. Vice Captain was all that Kōshi was going to be though, wasn't he?

Kōshi shook his head. If he was going to try and get on with his life and stop this ridiculous… ridiculous _pining,_ then he was going to have to take a leaf out of both Hitoka and Daichi's books and clear the air.

Kōshi Sugawara was going to have to confess, get rejected, cry a little, and come back stronger than ever. (Though would it have killed Daichi to notice him before it had come to this?)

"Hey." He approached Kiyoko and Hitoka while they were sorting out their notes before Coach Ukai started Karasuno's afternoon practice. "I think I'm going to need you both to reassemble what's left of me once I've done what I'm about to do."

Kiyoko winced, but Hitoka merely tilted her head curiously.

"What do – what do you mean?" The blonde inquired.

Kōshi gulped. It was now or never. "I'm going to confess to Daichi. Curse mark be damned, I'm going to do it."

('Curse mark?' Hitoka mouthed.)

Practice seemed to drag, and when they were dismissed Kōshi found himself clamming up. The boys allowed their managers to change from their gym clothes into their uniforms first mainly as a courtesy. Today Kōshi saw it as a betrayal. Kiyoko and Hitoka would be on their ways home before he'd changed and plucked up the courage to get Daichi alone – because you could bet on everyone else wanting to nosy in on something private and suspicious, even if Kōshi stressed it was Captain-y stuff.

When she emerged from the changing room, Kiyoko took one look at the subtle panic on Kōshi's face and rose an eyebrow. 'It's your funeral,' the action seemed to say. Kōshi wet his lips nervously. 'Grey tweed suit,' he mouthed to the elder manager, and she winked back amusedly.

 _She's enjoying this, isn't she?_ Kōshi realised, noting how Daichi's eyes roved flatly between himself and Kiyoko during their silent conversation.

"Something you'd like to share?" Said Karasuno's Captain conversationally, but Kōshi had begun to sweat.

"Actually," he murmured. "I need to speak with you. Alone."

It was time to test his cursed birthmark hypothesis. And if it didn't work, then Kōshi was sure no amount of grape juice and biscuits could piece him back together – but Kiyoko and Hitoka would always be there.

* * *

 **A/N [21/08/2018]:** For some reason I thought I was updating today, but I guess I should have updated yesterday? Oh well. Make of the ending what you will~

Thank you for reading,

-Yuilhan

* * *

 **Musical Inspiration:**

"Thunderclouds" – Sia, Diplo, and Labyrinth, 'LSD'

"She's Got You High" – Mumm-rah, 'She's Got You High'

"She Sells Sanctuary" – The Cult, 'Pure Cult'

"Smack That" – Akon, 'Smack That'

"Sixteen" – Rose Dive, 'Sixteen'

"Sweet Nothing" – Calvin Harris, feat. Florence Welch, '18 Months'


End file.
